A Final Goodbye
by Lawral
Summary: Losing a fellow agent is always hard but losing a past lover is even harder. Shortly after Jenny’s death, Gibbs finds old letters she’d written him in a closet. Written for three.steps for correctly guessing my Hangman Puzzle


A Final Goodbye

Author: Lawral

Pairing: Gibbs/Jenny

Rating: FR7

Summary: Losing a fellow agent is always hard but losing a past lover is even harder. Shortly after Jenny's death, Gibbs finds old letters she'd written him in a closet.

Warning: Season 5 spoilers (for those who may not be caught up) and character death

Note: Written for for correctly guessing my hangman puzzle. She asked for Jibbs and the generator gave me "love notes."

_Dear Jethro_

That was all the paper had said. She had wanted to tell him something and now he'd never find out. Perhaps her plan had been to tell him of her illness; that she didn't have much time left. Ducky had said she was dying, painfully and slowly.

"You never were very patient, Jen." He spoke aloud as he continued to stare at the empty note.

The boat stood unfinished in the middle of the basement, as it usually did. The bottle of bourbon sat open in front of him, his cup empty with just a tiny ring of liquid pooled in the bottom. The decision to take home the final note she'd intended for him had been made subconsciously.

Scenarios filtered through his logic as to her reasoning to be out in the middle of a desert. Especially when she knew that heavy artillery was most definitely on its way. She'd never been patient (the thought ran through his head once more) and giving up without a fight had never been part of her personality. He'd trained her well during their time together.

He sighed heavily, picked up the paper and recapped his bottle of bourbon before climbing the stairs to return to the main floor of his domicile. If she was dying the way Ducky mentioned then she'd gone out there for more than one reason: first, to protect him and second… to die.

He continued to look at the paper with her beautiful handwriting on it as he climbed another set of stairs that took him up to the second floor. It hadn't been since Shannon and Kelly had he kept anything of memory. He'd trained himself to move on from heartache, not to dwell on it. He opened a door at the end of the hall and walked inside.

It was a room he hadn't spent much time in. The room was painted pink and frilly lace covered the window. He didn't even pass a look at the unmade bed or the baby doll that lay at the foot of the bed. He crossed the room to the closet and pulled down an old shoebox from the top shelf.

Kelly had always been the one to keep memories in a box. He had only seen it fitting to keep his memory box hidden away in plain sight. As he removed the top, another letter with the same handwriting stared up at him. He sighed once more and picked up the small stack of letters that were housed inside.

_Dear Jethro,_

_It is true that our times together seem so far in the past. Though, for me they are still fresh in mind. Paris will never seem the same without memories of you. Good memories, even if we did break rules. Heh, although, now Serbia will be added to that list of memories._

_We still have jobs to do and while our separate missions may keep us apart, I know that we will be reunited. In our line of work it's to be expected. I will keep our moments for safe keeping; the secrets, the fears, the late night escapades and the long leisurely conversations. But I want you to know one thing, Jethro._

_I love you._

_Jenny_

It had been the first and only time she'd ever said that she loved him. The statement had scared him at the time; with three ex-wives, those words didn't come easy. Three little words scared both him and his wallet.

He looked back into the small box and found a half-dozen other letters she'd sent him during their brief romance. He couldn't figure out why he'd kept them until now. Rereading the last one, the one where she'd professed her love, he returned to the final note. It held only his name. He suddenly knew exactly what the paper would have told him; he knew why she hadn't written anything else. That letter was to be her final goodbye. She hadn't written anything on it because he already knew what was to be said.

The wind whistled outside and a single branch tapped against the window once. Somewhere, perhaps it was only in his head, he heard her voice calling his name in a whisper.

"I know, Jen." He said. He put the papers, with the final goodbye on top, back into the shoebox and returned the top softly. "I love you, too."


End file.
